Magic Carpet Ride
by coffee-stained lips
Summary: Now finally she was princess. And he was prince, and there they were, soaring on a magic carpet ride high above the clouds. Oneshot.


**Okay, so someone told me Avan Jogia/Beck looked like Aladdin, so I took a good look and he kind of does. And I got an amazing idea for a oneshot that was supposed to be based around a "prince and princess", if you hear what I'm saying, but who wants Cinderella or Snow White or Sleeping Beauty nowadays? I say bring the good one. Bring Aladdin and Jasmine (who, in my opinion, are a way better rotal couple than one with Prince Charmin') here! So, ta da!**

He was Aladdin.

She sees him standing and she can imagine him as a strong, poor boy on his own. Always a loner, searching always for a treasure to help him become who he was meant to be: a prince. And his girlfriend was Jasmine, the gorgeous princess who saw him as a prince and accepted when he asked her to go on a magic carpet ride. The two rode on his magic flying carpet through everything together, while she was left on the ground with nothing—she was nothing.

Some days she'd watch them as the halls made way for them on his carpet. They'd fly graciously and together throughout the entire school and every soul would watch them and envy them. They'd say "I want something like that" or "I want someone like that" or "I want him" or "I want her" and so on. She knew what she wanted but she also knew she'd never have it: she wanted the chance to fly with him as Jasmine on his magic carpet.

Alas, he already found his princess, and the two of them were high above the clouds on his magical carpet already.

/./././

She wasn't Jasmine anymore.

The two had been together forever but in one fight she had stepped off the satin purple carpet and now he was a lonesome Aladdin again. She would've jumped at the chance to be what she had always wanted to be (Jasmine) but he didn't show the desire to be a prince again. He was content—without a choice—being alone and she didn't want to mess up everything.

But he didn't enjoy being alone, really. He wanted someone to ride with him on his carpet but no one who he felt was really in love with him stepped forward. Only one girl since his princess left held any feelings but she was in the back of the room, far away from him. They didn't communicate often so he didn't even acknowledge her. She knew him, he knew her—that was it. This made her heart crack and break, for he'd never be hers.

/./././

He acknowledged her.

Just a little glimpse, really. She was sitting on campus with her other pals as they ate lunch. A cheese on wheat sandwich in one hand, a ketchup bottle in the other, she was ready to make her food as eccentric as herself when he happened to walk by. She didn't see him nor did he see her, but each saw the other when she angled the ketchup wrong and it hit his jacket. She finally saw him and, to her horror, what she'd done to his leather jacket (the one she thought he was so cute in). She apologized again and again while wiping the red goo up as shakily as possible. He told her it was fine, and she lifted her eyes to stare at his—they were black as the night with a sparkle like a single star. She melted at the sight of them and the napkin fell from her little hand.

"It's okay." He smiled. "I'll clean it. But thanks, Cat." Cat. _Cat_. He said her name. And not angrily. He said it with friendliness, kindness. No, he hadn't said "Cat, I love you" or "Cat, I need you"—he said "But thanks, Cat". Still he had smiled at her like the two had something, had known the other since kindergarten. It was enough to make her feel hope.

/./././

He picked her up when she fell.

It'd been a rough week already with failed assignments and arguments with even the shyest people. So of course she broke down after hearing the news, and he was there.

She'd been in a private section of the school—one no one went to—crying like a child. It was fine for her to bawl like this because the news was so terrible but she hated it. Because no one was crying with her; because no one was in pain with her; no one cared like her.

He happened to hear the pitiful sobs and rushed to find who they belonged to. Once he saw they came from her he sat beside her and wrapped a tan arm round her petite body and let her soak his shirt with her tears. She needn't say a thing; he simply knew her sadness and let her get it out.

When she finished he asked what was wrong. She explained the phone call from the hospital saying the death of her mother and she choked on the water coming down her throat, and he just put his arms around her again and let her continue crying.

"It'll be okay, Cat." He rubbed her back soothingly, his warmth radiating on her shaken frame. "It hurts, I know, but just let it out. I'll be here if you need to cry again. I promise."

"Thank you." More tears came whilst she clutched him nearer to her. "You're my best friend, Beck." And she spoke truth. He was her very, very best friend now.

/./././

They were best friends forever.

Ever since the incident with the passing of her mom, he kept near in case she needed to cry again. Sometimes she did, and he'd sit with her while she sobbed into him. The crying phase passed eventually and they'd just grown so _used_ to being together and so _close_ to the other. It wouldn't be right to leave after what had happened. She didn't mind; she loved him being her best friend.

Even though she wanted to be more than friends, she enjoyed spending time with him. She'd tell him secrets no one (not even her family) knew as he'd also do. They'd eat lunch with each other, and switch sandwiches whenever she got tuna (because he knew how much she _hates_ tuna), although he hated it. They'd stay on the phone for a long time when she woke up from a nightmare and just needed someone's voice. He never got cranky or irritable with her when she called at 3:00 AM. He'd listen to her explain the dream and whenever she got off topic he'd just grin and say "Oh, really?" She'd never had such a close friend and she loved how it was him.

/./././

He got a new Jasmine.

It was the new girl—the one she thought was her friend. The two had kissed in a play and that was apparently enough. Now she adorned the dress and stepped on his magic carpet. They were happy flying above everyone. And she was left once more on her two feet, alone and with nothing.

It wasn't much different from when he had his first girlfriend. That's just it: when he had his first girlfriend, he didn't talk to _her_. He hung out more with his new girlfriend and whenever she'd come to lunch, he was with his Jasmine as they floated on his flying carpet. She couldn't reach that high, so neither saw her below, chomping on a cheese on wheat sandwich with ketchup. And when she cried, she cried alone again.

No more secrets were exchanged and no more trading of tuna sandwiches. Whenever she tried he'd say he didn't like tuna. That was something she hadn't known. And the worst part: at 3:00 AM, when she had a horrifying nightmare, he wouldn't pick up the phone. After all the rings, she heard his answering machine. So she'd keep redialing to hear his voice say "Sorry, I'm not in right now. Leave your message after the beep. Here it comes…" Then a beep. It was a pathetic sight.

/./././

She confronted him.

So many nights went by without his friendly voice (really talking to her) and his warm smile and—dare she say it—his flawless beautifulness. She wanted her friend back. She loved him so dang much but now her heart was crumbling, not because he loved another, but because he no longer loved _her_.

He had been laughing with his new girlfriend when she stormed over so unlike herself and angrily said she needed to talk. So Aladdin kissed Jasmine goodbye (sorrow and anger welled up inside of her) and they parted. Then he turned to her with his handsome grin and dark eyes—the things she adored that she now grieved over.

"You don't talk to me anymore." The words came fast and with tears that threatened to spill but she couldn't cry in front of him anymore—she didn't want to. "You don't visit either. You don't even look in my direction. Beck…I thought we were friends." The tears started to cascade down her face though she wanted them inside, and his handsome grin flipped to a frown and he didn't understand her pain.

"We are, Cat." He said it like they really were, but they weren't. Not anymore.

"No. Friends hang out together. They talk to each other. They _look_ at each other." Now all the rage, all the misery, all the pain came flooding out and she started to get personal (because he deserved to feel her pain). "They tell each other everything. They switch sandwiches when one gets tuna. They answer the frickin' telephone when one has a nightmare." The last sentence made it all clear to him. His eyes that were filled with confusion gained realization, and then guilt.

"Oh, Cat…" She saw that he now had the pain inside, knew her own, but she didn't care. It didn't prove anything if he looked sorry. He had to do an action to prove how sorry he was. "I-I didn't know Tori and me going out affected you like this. I'm really, really sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry." The whisper was barely heard. "Prove it. By picking up the phone when I call." And with that, she and her blasted tears left him standing in the hall alone. Like she always was.

/./././

He answered.

It was the worst nightmare in the history of the lot: she was minding her own business at school when _he and she_ came strutting down the hallway. Upon spotting her, they laughed and spat. The worst part was they were on a purple-satin flying carpet in special prince and princess outfits while she was in tattered clothes. When she awoke, she was already crying.

So, all choked up, she called him. Needless to say she expected an answering machine so upon hearing his sweet, wonderful, _caring_ voice she was amazed and then overjoyed. She didn't even listen to his stuttered apology and just started thanking him, and then talking about the nightmare (she made a new one up—no use saying the embarrassing truth) and he listened and laughed at the appropriate times but she didn't care when he laughed or replied, just that he was there again, being her friend again. And that made her fall even deeper in love.

/./././

No more Jasmine again.

There really wasn't any explanation for the break-up. She hadn't been expecting it either; just all of a sudden she was no longer a princess and, once more, he was no longer a prince. Not that _she_ minded. She was happy he had no princess because it meant there'd be more of him for her. She wanted so badly to be that princess but it didn't matter right then—what mattered was he was her best friend again.

One day, after switching her tuna with his BLT (he said he liked tuna again, but she knew the real answer), he kept staring at her eating until it started to creep her out and she asked what he was staring at, and he said a beautiful woman. This made her blush but smile and she told him to stop teasing.

"I'm not teasing." His tone was so believable that she almost dropped the sandwich in shock. She swallowed her bite and set it down before he spoke again. "You've been my best friend for ages and I never knew we could be more than that. Don't ask me how or when, Cat, but I really want to be with you. You wanna go out with me Friday night, maybe?" After the shock wore down, she squealed and jumped into his arms like a springy rabbit and her grip was so mighty she might've choked him to death if he hadn't pulled her off ever so gently. The moment was so, _so_ perfect and so, _so_ wonderful and if it was a dream, heck, no one pinch her because wanted to be asleep forever.

/./././

Guess who his new Jasmine is?

After all the heartache she'd been in since knowing she was in love, now finally she was princess. And he was prince, and there they were, soaring on a magic carpet ride high above the clouds. She couldn't see anyone below or above or sideways because she always looked at _him_ and he always looked at _her_, and the love was so grand and brilliant. She couldn't understand his first two girlfriends who'd want to get and be okay with getting off this flying carpet and away from him. Never had she dreamt during those times of leaving, and she knew if she did she'd never get over it. But she didn't have to worry about losing him, because they were together forever. They were best friends. They were best lovers.

They were Aladdin and Jasmine—they were the perfect pair.

**So, yeah, wrote it on a whim. Be brutal.**


End file.
